


do it for the spotchka

by Nununununu



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Attraction, Competence Kink, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Reunions, and a smidgen of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: When Cobb first sees the Mandalorian without his helmet on, he’s got no clue it’s supposed to be significant, given someone had failed to explain that pertinent little fact.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 13
Kudos: 114
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	do it for the spotchka

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghost_teeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghost_teeth/gifts).



> (Originally posted 14/02; redated for author reveals)

When Cobb first sees the Mandalorian without his helmet on, he’s got no clue it’s supposed to be significant, given someone had failed to explain that pertinent little fact.

All he knows is that the man’s near crashed what’s presumably his big old spaceship all but on top of the party Cobb’s having with a group of persistent buggers that need to learn when to fuck off. He doesn’t pay him much more attention than that in honesty, once he’s established that, yep, it appears to be the same guy from last time back again as if Tatooine has something else to offer than a whole bunch of sand and, yep, it looks like he’s alive and kicking – unless there’s some sort of wiring inside that armour that could keep on moving the man if he expired and, okay, that’s kind of a curious but slightly morbid thought that Cobb should perhaps ponder on later rather than now.

He hits an idiot in the mouth, shakes his hand out, ducks a swing from another of the would-be bandits and avoids a kick to the balls. Puts his own boot where it won’t be appreciated right after. Confirms that the Mandalorian’s waded into the fray without a by-your-leave, tosses him a couple of bandits to deal with and gets back to just getting on with the rest.

It’s only the sound of the other man making an indeterminate noise behind him when the fight’s over that ultimately reminds Cobb he’s there. So he’s distracted – this would be the third lot of bastards who’ve thought they could help themselves to the non-existent riches of Cobb’s little mining town this week, and they’re only in the first half of it – and he’s busy turning over the bodies, alive and otherwise, in search of any handily visible gang marks when he hears a sort of hiss of a seal disengaging.

A glance over his shoulder shows the Mandalorian slapping sand out of the helmet before shucking it off altogether, turning it over to frown in at something. Cobb gives him a look – yep, that’s a face that was under there – and moves onto giving the bandits a bit of a pat down, gaining himself a decent knife for his trouble that will go nicely in the collection of weapons he’s been building up for use by better folk than their previous owners.

It’s not that the townsfolk of Mos Pelgo aren’t bloody-minded enough to be up for a fight. Now they’re no longer ground down under the gnarly heels of the massive beast of a dragon, the difficulty lies more in getting them to consider _stopping_. Besides, it’s always nice to have a variety of options when it comes to seeing intruders off.

With this in mind, Cobb tucks the knife into his belt and rises back up from his crouch, twisting a few kinks out of his back on the way, a painfully satisfying crack of bones that’s kind of gross to listen to and gets a glimpse of dark eyes looking over at him.

“Yeah?” It seems a bit superfluous now to say something like ‘you’re back’.

“I thought you might –” The Mandalorian blinks. Cobb considers blinking back at him.

“Yeah?” He draws out the word this time.

“Have more of a – never mind,” This gets an ambiguous twitching frown-smile as if the Mandalorian's possibly secretly sort of pleased or relieved maybe, if relief has the edge of what could be a pout in it, and is as illuminating as anything, which is to say it isn’t at all, the other man returning to tampering with something within the helmet, “You could have dealt with this on your own, couldn’t you.”

A brief gesture made by a gloved finger towards the bodies identifies ‘this’. There’s the possibility there’s an ounce of admiration in it for Cobb’s grit, though it’s not demonstrative enough to ascertain this.

“Took on more than this sorry lot yesterday,” Admiration’s not necessary; he spent a whole lot of years managing to survive without that suit of armour before getting it – it’s just taken a bit to remind his body of this. Still it’s an interesting titbit to tuck away for later contemplation as well, “Doesn’t mean you leaping in wasn’t very, uh.”

There’s no way he can finish it that’ll save the sentence, is there.

The less than gushing evaluation gets a faint snort from the Mandalorian before he disappears back into the helmet. There’s that sound of the seal and then of it disengaging again after a half minute pause that seems somehow chagrined, the man dragging in a breath that sounds like it wants to be heavier than he’s letting it be.

“Having fun there?” Cobb’s starting to get an inkling what’s going on.

“Plenty,” The Mandalorian gives him a look, holding it for more than a second this time, and Cobb feels his lip curl up a little over his teeth in reply – a friendly expression, depending on how he goes about it.

It might sidle into something else come the end of it, given the faint flush he’s fairly delighted to identify in the other man’s ears. Makes him want to grab hold of them to soak it up with his thumbs.

“Want to go fight another dragon or grab some spotchka?” Resisting demanding the man hand the helmet over so he can take a stab at whatever’s malfunctioned instead, Cobb tips his head.

“Another dragon?” He gets a more curious look this time.

“Just a little one,” Thing’s only about half the size of the greater krayt, “Been sniffing around the outskirts of the Tusken camp. It’s their bantha birthing season, so I offered to save them the trouble.”

The Mandalorian’s expression is dry enough this time Cobb makes a face right back – he’s getting on all right with the Tuskens these days, no matter what _some people_ might apparently believe.

_Jerk,_ He signs or what seems to be the close equivalent, and gets a flicker of a smile for his pains. An amount of what looks suspiciously like approval in it, a response to which Cobb is practically obliged to complain.

“Anyone tell you you show every single thing you’re thinking clear as day,” His objection however just gets a noncommittal hum initially.

“Not everything,” The Mandalorian then rustles up a protest of his own.

“Yeah?” Shouldering his rifle as he starts to head off over the dunes towards the Tusken camp, Cobb’s not surprised to sense the other man fall into step. That bit behind, like he’d followed Cobb around Mos Pelgo that first time, “Go on, then. Tell me what I’ve missed.”

Like where the kid is, for starters. And why the Mandalorian’s seemingly content to just follow his lead.

Well, maybe not that yet. That’s something Cobb might just find out himself. In a variety of ways.

“All right,” A glance back at him shows the Mandalorian’s tucked the helmet against his hip, “Are you planning on allowing me to help with the dragon?”

If that’s not an attempt at sarcasm, Cobb will eat the hat he left back on a peg in the cantina.

“Just for that, no, but I’ll let you watch me shoot it,” He grants magnanimously and watches and listens to the Mandalorian snort again in mild amusement, as they continue on with the trek.


End file.
